


Put your faith in me

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bush Medicine, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Madjester1's Crossbow (Medic/Sniper) fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine match goes downhill awfully fast, and Medic is forced to retreat and consider alternatives, to not only help his team along towards what would no doubt be a hard fought win, but to conserve the Ubercharge he'd been banking. What he comes up with, is both incredibly unorthodox and so unpredictable, that not even Sniper could have been prepared to hear Medic's request to fuse with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put your faith in me

**Author's Note:**

> The fusion is based off http://madjesters1.tumblr.com/ design, and quite frankly I'm in love with it lol. 
> 
> Written as a Tumblr writing prompt to help get my butt out of a writters block.
> 
> You can find my Tumblr here: http://charspurpletooran.tumblr.com/

It wasn’t often Sniper saw Medic retreat back from the frontlines of combat, let alone bee-lining it straight for him. He’d given the man the cover he needed to get back safely, assuming he was simply heading back to where Engineer had set up to get a spot heal from the man’s dispenser. But then he’d taken an unexpected turn and sprinted up the ramparts and into Sniper’s nest with a speed that damn near rivalled the Scout, and hell if that didn’t put the marksman on red alert – had something gone wrong?

Medic kicked the door in looking worse for wear, blood and other bodily fluids staining his face and coat like his own macabre sort of warpaint, his eyes weary and exhausted behind the dirty lenses of his askew glasses. This fight was certainly not going their way.

For a brief moment, Sniper entertained the thought that this was one of the best disguises he’d seen the enemy Spy use for their Medic.

But then the good doctor caught his breath, and opened his mouth.

“Fuse with me” he all but breathed.

And Sniper sure as shit knew that was no Spy.

“That’s a stupid bloody idea” he grumbled eventually, opting to ignore the request and look back down his scope, scanning the battlefield for any splashes of blue amongst the red.

“I’ve had worse” the Medic said simply with a shrug of his shoulders, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with the flat of his palm. Sniper elected to ignore that comment too – and its potential implications – and fixed the neutral-looking doctor with a blank stare.

“And you seriously think it’s gonna help?”

Medic blinked over the rims of his glasses, an eyebrow raised incredulously.

“I never said it would” the doctor said slowly, a small smile curving the corners of his lips up mischievously “but it’s a better to do something rather than nothing, ja?”

“And you think fusing with me of all people, is gonna magically turn the battle around?” Sniper propped his rifle against the wall and crossed his arms, fixing Medic with a look that spoke miles of his scepticism “you’re an idiot mate, it ain’t gonna work; we’re both support classes for christ sakes!”

Medic didn’t take kindly to being called names, and pinned the marksman with an icy stare, bearing teeth in a snarl.

“First of all Herr Sniper, us both being support classes has very little to do with anything when it comes to the eventual effectiveness of a fusion. You know this. Secondly? What do you propose I do?” the doctor snapped “I have an uber ready to deploy, Heavy is dead and won’t be back for another five minutes - long enough for the enemy to... steamroll us, as Scout puts it - Soldier’s off caving skulls in with that shovel of his and won’t listen to my calls, and the Demoman is passed out drunk in respawn”

“...What about Scout?”

“Herr Sniper” Medic ground out, pushing his glasses up his face and rubbing at his eyes with dirty gloves “if I needed his speed and agility I would have gone to him” 

“Then why the bloody hell didn’t ya? He’d be more useful than I would be” the marksman grumbled, leaning over on the crate he sat on and grabbing his half empty coffee mug.

“Because!” the doctor said exasperatedly, slowly approaching wits end with Sniper’s stubbornness and ridiculous inferiority complex “I need accuracy and quick reflexes honed from years of sniping experience - who else has that but you?”

“... Spook?”

“Sniper!” Medic barked, a finality echoing in his tone that made the marksman shrink back in surprise “would you please stop trying to undermine the reason I came to you, and just accept that I’m choosing you over the rest of the team to fuse with?” taking a breath and adjusting his glasses, the Medic added much quieter “I prefer fusing with you anyway, though we’re not the most compatible, it still makes for fun times, ja?”

Now that caught Sniper’s attention and he paused with the mug of hot coffee at his lips, blue eyes flicking to the side to stare at the doctor.

“Wait... you prefer fusin’ with me?”

Medic chuckled, but didn’t elaborate much to the Sniper’s disdain. Clearing his throat uncertainly and putting the mug down, Sniper stood and adjusted his rifle over his shoulder, sliding his eyes to the side and laughing quietly.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this” he murmured eventually, sniffing and rubbing at his nose shyly. 

“I didn’t” Medic quipped, shifting his weight and gingerly removing the medipack strapped over his shoulders “you would have agreed eventually, or am I wrong in assuming that?” 

“.... Nah mate, you’re not wrong” Medic smiled cheekily, pleased with Sniper’s answer and offered the man his hand.

“Shall we?” 

Sniper was hilariously awkward whenever it came to fusing, and Medic couldn’t help but find him endearing; the marksman clearly wasn’t used to physical contact at all, and shied away from touch almost sheepishly. It was a wonder someone as plainly introverted as he, managed to work to well with a team that had no semblance of personal space.

Though, Medic supposed it did help that he had his van to retreat to when things got too intense for his liking.

He was tapping his feet unsurely and his shoulders had bunched up in a way that Medic could only read as self-consciousness, refusing to make eye contact with the very man he was supposed to be fusing with - who he had fused with on more than one occasion to save both their lives. Medic didn’t see why it was such a big deal all of a sudden. Still, he supposed it was a good thing he was blessed with the patience needed in his profession.

Withdrawing his hand, Medic sidled up to the on-edge Sniper, and gently touched the tips of his gloved fingers to the uncomfortable man’s shoulders.

“Herr Sniper, we’ve fused before haven’t we?”

“... Yes”

“And the resulting fusion between us wasn’t bad, ja?”

“... Yeah”

“Exactly” Medic soothed, patting the man’s shoulder reassuringly “we’ve done this before mein freund, it’s something you’ve experienced. You know what to expect.” Sniper peered up at him over the yellow tint of his glasses.

“… That’s true”

“So, I’ll ask again; fuse with me?”

Sniper smiled wryly, clapping his hand over the one still on his shoulder.

“Yeah doc, let’s do this”

....

They were a whirlwind of destruction, packed into a frame almost several feet tall. His team knew exactly what to expect the second they heard howling laughter echoing across the battlefield, the whistles of arrows and thrum of an ubercharge wreaking havoc in a cacophony of maniacal laughter and smooth violin notes. They were the reprieve everyone on their team needed from the hail of constant uphill combat, and the four-eyed monster that sawed limbs from his enemies with an almost clinical precision.

Crossbow clicked his tongue behind his teeth, lips curving into a wild grin and one set of arms perched on his hips.

“I feel like I should capture points more often” he mused, moreso to himself then the Scout sitting cross-legged on the metal point, his Sandman across his lap “It’s awfully quiet…”

“That’d be because you scared ‘em all off wise guy, I mean I ain’t complainin cuz it means I ain’t getting’ shot at, but this shit’s boring as fuck now man”

“And you would rather lose the match?” Crossbow quipped, raising an eyebrow behind aviators and staring down at the runner disapprovingly. Scout hesitated.

“Well… no bu-“

“But you want to do your job.” Crossbow sighed “Ja, I understand mate; why do you think Medic approached the Sniper? He wanted to do his job and make sure you’d all get back in one piece at the end of the match – so how about we make a little deal?” Scout blinked up at the towering fusion, his brow furrowed.

“Huh?”

“You push as hard as you can, and I’ll cover you. How does that sound?”

"Well… that’d be nice n all, but you n I both know I’d get completely destroyed the second I run around that corner, y’know?”

“Hn... what would you say, if I told you I could uber you from range for a short period of time?”

Several beats of silence passed before Scout finally responded.

“I’d ask what the catch was”

Crossbow barked out a laugh and raised a hand to tap at the quiver on his back.

“And I’d tell you it involved an arrow to your posterior”

Scout groaned.

“Of course it does”

“Oh don’t be such a baby”


End file.
